


The Night in Budapest.

by spocks_and_sabers



Category: Avengers, Clintasha - Fandom
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Budapest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocks_and_sabers/pseuds/spocks_and_sabers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all wanted to know what happened in Budapest, so I did the thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night in Budapest.

The plane had finally landed at Liszt Ferenc International Airport, just a few miles away from the hotel in Budapest. Natasha groggily got out of the airplane, and entered the grand, modernized airport. She checked into customs, the guy at the desk insisted on hitting on her in Hungarian, which drove her insane because it was obvious he thought she couldn’t understand a word he was saying, when it was the exact opposite. Thankfully for him, she managed to keep her cool and not bust a cap in his ass right there, how bad would that have been. The wait for her luggage took a tad longer than expected, Natasha almost wondered if they’d found her ‘equipment’. When it did finally arrive she hastily took the shortest, least crowded route out of there. She put on her shades to protect her eyes from the sinister Hungarian sun, and tied her fiery red hair up to get as much air to her head as possible. She took out her cell phone tossing it in her hand, before unlocking it and double checking her information and reminding herself of the hotel she was to be staying at and her target. Her target was the rich, idiot son of a black market weapons dealer, who’d been mass producing some killer merch, and selling top secret information to some bad people. She also checked to see if the money had been wired to her bank account. “Thanks Max.” she smirked to herself, sliding her finger across the screen to lock the phone.  
Natasha decided to go straight to the hotel, not wanting to linger around and be noticed by someone who might have it out for her. This actually happened more often than you’d think, she’d be on a normal mission, and someone would spot her and either try to take her down, or call the target and warn them. It never really worked out for them either way though, apparently they didn’t understand the term master assassin. She hopped into the most decent looking cab she saw (a not too worn down grey, 2009 Toyota Corolla) and skilfully gave the driver the directions in Hungarian. The driver took a scenic route to the hotel, Natasha got to see some historic buildings and observe the local people.  
She arrived at the stunning Danubius Hotel Flamenco, the front was heavily decorated with native flora, and the building itself had the sophisticated glass pane window look. She couldn’t help but smile sheepishly, for once it wasn’t a sleazy motel to set up base, maybe she’d actually enjoy her stay. The hotel interior was even more gorgeous, sleek white marble flooring, posh marble pillars, and a waiting room with luxurious leather chairs and a glistening chandelier hanging above the large table to the centre. The receptionist’s area was to the right, it almost looked as if it were tucked away in a corner. The woman behind the counter greeted Natasha and gave her the room key after taking her identification and credit card information.  
Natasha was stepping out of the elevator, bags in one hand (she refused to allow the bellhop to help her) and green room key in the other, when she spotted a very familiar head of messy, uncombed blonde hair. “Oh god.” She blurted out louder than she’d meant, which gained her the attention of the familiar stranger. “Natasha?” he called to her inching closer and closer, his smug grin growing with every step. God how she hated that stupid grin, it made her want to slap it right off his stupid square jaw. “ Hey Clint.” She finally responded meeting his blue gaze, that was another thing she couldn't stand about him, those piercing ocean blue eyes that made her feel like screaming at him. There was just something about Clint Barton that drove Natasha insane. “What are you doing here?” he inquired in all sincerity, Nat looked up at him to see if he was revealing any ulterior motive, but Clint had a really good poker face. “I’m meeting family, ugh they just adore it here and I haven’t seen them in a while so I thought I’d, meet up.” She lied expertly, Clint only nodded in understanding before inputting his reason for being there “I’m here on vacation! The beaches are just amazing.” Natasha knew, with every fibre of her being, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was there on vacation. Chances were he was here to take down the same target she was, Istvan Fazekas, which would be a really big problem. “ Well, it was nice seeing you.” Clint said, interrupting her train of thought, he walked off and Natasha cautiously walked toward her room. Just guess who was staying in the room adjacent, Clint waved her, before entering his room. Slightly deflated she slid her keycard and watched the light go from red to green. The room was painted a mute brownish colour, it had a queen sized bed, lots of storage space, a flat screen, and a toilet. Perfect, she thought to herself, dropping on the soft, comfy bed and closing her eyes. She needed a moment to soak in the fact that she’d be staying her for a week or so.  
Mid-way between her cat nap her phone vibrated in her pocket, it was a message from Max. It read:  
Change of plans, Istvan is attending a party not far from your location. Take him down, no witnesses.  
Well so much for relaxation, the text also came with the location of the party and a few images of Istvan. Natasha committed the image to memory before getting ready for the party, she showered and picked out a perfect black dress with a knee long part to conceal her weapons. She put her knives in the holster on her stocking, slipped a small knife in her hair to act as a pin, she loaded her ring with smoke pellets and finally put her favourite pistol and an extra round in her clutch. It had occurred to her that if she got the heads up, Clint would have also, she checked the hallways and snuck out of her room, forgetting to lock it back.  
It was obvious there was a party going on in the house, there was loud music, flashing lights and couples running and laughing in the front yard. That made it easy for Natasha to slip inside unnoticed, inside was filled with drunk dancers in gaudy clothes, older men playing poker and commenting on any women that passed near them. It was all disgusting really, and to top it all off some drunk asshole slapped her butt, which she responded to by breaking his arm and causing a minor scene. Natasha didn't have the patience to deal with drunken idiots, so she walked around looking for Istvan. As luck would have it she found him, sitting in a booth with a drink in his hand and a grin on his face. She sat right next to him and ordered a White Russian, which made him very surprised. “Interesting choice, the girls usually go for something more, fruity.” He indirectly stated to her, that’s right, take the bait. “I suppose you could say I’m not most girls.” She replied accepting her drink from the waiter and taking a large gulp. “No you aren't Ms. Romanov” he agreed, making Natasha choke on her drink. Shit, cover blown. How? She was overly careful. Act nonchalant she thought, there was still enough time to pull out her hair knife and end him. Unfortunately her vision began to blur and the club around her faded to smudges and spots, until it blended into perfect darkness.  
Natasha woke up to a splash of cold water on the face, her hands and legs tightly, tied to a sturdy metal chair. She couldn't feel her holster anymore and her hair was out, so no knives. Her clutch was also missing and there was no way she could get to her smoke pellets, to make matters more interesting, there were five heavily armed brooding guards congregated near a small table, and one Istvan, looking even tinier in his white suit, dark hair slicked back showing his large forehead. They were still in the club, you could hear the music from below their feet, the room was bare and only had one large window. This was definitely a tight situation, could she get out of it? That was the million dollar question. Istvan walked up to her, and bent so their faces would meet, he splashed more icy cold water in her face and began his interrogation “Who sent you? Which corner of the world wants me dead this time?” he was still at eye level, which made it easy for her to spit the water all over his face. He stepped back and chuckled, while whipping his eye, then he spun around and slapped her across her face twice, ring and all. Natasha felt the blood trickle down her cheek and tasted it in her mouth, “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” She spat, grinning with a bloody mouth. His smile faded to a snarl and he started up with the questions again, and when she didn’t answer he either slapped or threatened her.  
“Who sent you?”  
“Your tailor, he says he that suit wasn’t for you.” And he hit her.  
“Where did you get the orders?”  
“Hey, do wear clothes twice your size to make up for your micro dick?” And he threatened her with a knife.  
It went on and on like that for ten minutes, her face was throbbing from the pain, but she could still see and think clearly. He was hitting her face, not her head. Even with all her wits about, she still couldn’t think of a way out, the chair was bolted and she didn’t have her palm knife to cut the rope. Time was running out too, Istvan pulled a gun to her head, pure rage engulfing his eyes, “Tell me what I want to know, and you live. You have till the count of ten.” He proclaimed, “Bite me.” She spat back, deciding that she wouldn’t sell her associates out, and if she had to die here, she wouldn’t panic , she’d take it like a shot of vodka. “Nine” he muttered, seemingly unphased, which earned a chuckle from Nat. He kept going completely determined. Seven, six, five, four, and he cocked the gun, three…  
Something flew through the window, breaking the glass and hitting a guard in the head. Two more followed taking out two other ones, one in the neck the other the stomach. Istvan and two of his guards ducked down to avoid the onslaught, but one of the guards peaked up too early and got an arrow to straight through his skull. Wait, an arrow. Well shit. Istvan started shouting at the final guard to kill whoever was shouting at them, but the man was conflicted and antsy, he tried to bolt for the door, but was shot in the leg and then again in the back as he fell. An arrow flew straight into Natasha’s restrained hands, but she still managed to grasp hold, and saw herself free. Istvan was still cowering under the table, fearing an arrow, but Natasha spotted her clutch on the table, along with all her other weapons. She ceremoniously opened the bag, and prepped her pistol, then aimed it at Istvan, “Told you.” She smiled, before pulling the trigger and killing him. She quickly re-armed herself and kicked open the door, trying to retain her previous composure, she departed the house. In the car ride back to the hotel, she texted Max:  
Target neutralized, requesting immediate extraction.  
Natasha had no plans on staying here another day, no matter how nice the hotel was or how rich the culture was, she could not face Barton. She practically threw the money at the driver and ran (in 8 inch heels) into the Danubius, and impatiently pushed the buttons for the elevator. After, what seemed like a year, one finally arrived, and it couldn’t move any slower to get her to her room. Finally it got there, and all Nat could think of was her room key in her bag, she was walking at top speed while trying to get to it under her gun, when she hit someone.  
‘Oh God no, anyone else, please’ she begged, slowly raising her head, and meeting two sky blue eyes, and bright pink lips curved into a smirk. “Visiting family?” he asked innocently, making her feel to tear every individual hair off his chin, “Nice, I didn't know vacation plans included murder.” she snapped. Clint laughed his stupid laugh, that turned her legs into jello. “I saved your ass back there Romanov, a little ‘thank you Clint’ wouldn't hurt you.” He retorted smugly. Ugh, was it really possible for one person to be so arrogant? “I’d have gotten out without your help, Barton.” She spat, backing away from him, he grabbed her arm and brought her closer, their noses nearly touching. “Look, I get it, you don’t like being helped or shown up or what the hell ever, but the fact is, I saved you today, the least you could do is say thank you.” He snarled, making her knees collapse a little, there was obvious tension and Nat couldn't control herself, she’d been keeping it in for so long that it just, burst out of her. She pounced on him, literally, she jumped on him, her legs wrapped around his waist, one hand in his hair, the other on her clutch. Clint reacted a split second later, he propped her up with on hand, and used the other to take the knife out her hair and toss it on the floor. Clint managed to move them backward, slamming Nat into the wall, which she didn’t seem to feel. They were kissing more feverishly now, but Clint managed to twirl them into Nat’s opened door, nearly falling on floor. They hit the bed with surprising force, Clint kissed her neck slowly and softly, before slipping his large, rough hand up her dress, and taking off her stockings. He kissed her thighs, nibbling as he went up and down, making Nat moan in pleasure. What a fucking tease, she thought. She flipped him over and manically ripped the jacket off him, and kissed him all over his face and neck. She was trying to get his pants undone, but Clint sat up , pulling her into his lap. He smirked, that stupid annoying smirk, and took her dress off. He kissed her again, their tongues fighting for dominance, before he trailed his lips down her body, dragging his teeth as he went, making her pull at his hair more. Nat slipped her hands under his shirt, felling his tone muscle, and some of his old scars. She got him to take if off and lie on his back as she kissed his chest. She was teasing him now slipping her hand down his pants, and seeing the desire wash over his smug face. He flipped her again, taking off her panties with his teeth and kissing her thighs, he pulled her up onto his lap and undid her bra, kissing her chest. Clint removed his boxers, revealing his hard dick. Nat slammed him back onto the bed, digging her nails into his chest as she kissed him. Clint moaned her name, giving her exactly what she wanted. He sat upright, straddling her. He bit her lips as he entered her, keeping her moan in. Clint put her on her back again, her fingers clawing at his back and basically ripping out his hair as he thrusted. It was a power struggle, Nat would flip Clint and bite into his neck, and tug at his hair, then Clint would be in control again, he’d trail her chest and stomach with bites and kisses while she dug into his back from pleasure. They went on like that for hours until, Clint couldn’t hold it in anymore and Nat was spent. He rolled on his back, breathing liked he’d just ran a marathon (except with more bruises and bites) “You’re a fucking animal” Clint commented gasping for breath, he heard her laugh a small airy noise, that made him feel warm inside, and then she wrapped herself in the covers and went to sleep.

The next morning Clint woke up sore, battered and alone. Natasha was long gone, but she left a note on the side table.  
Thank you.  
He smiled, as he ran his finger across the letters, wondering exactly what she was thanking him for.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if I sucks, has errors or is overly punctuated.


End file.
